| |
Te’Qui was five minutes away from the meeting spot that he and Big Will had agreed upon, when he’d gotten another call from him changing the location. He gave him the address to some house out in Compton. Te’Qui didn’t ask why he’d changed his mind about meeting at the other location. He just figured he had his reasons. Besides, it wasn’t like it was a big deal to him. The only thing that bothered him was the way the nigga sounded on the jack. Big Will sounded as if he was frustrated and angry about something. What it was, he did not know, nor did he give a shit, just as long as that nigga had his paper.
Te’Qui parked four houses down and across the street from the house Big Will told him to meet him at. Reaching underneath his seat, he grabbed his gun and cocked a hollow tip into its brain. He then hopped out of the car and shut the door behind him. He gave his surrounding a quick scan before tucking his banga on his waistline. Te’Qui jogged across the street looking up and down the block for any oncoming vehicles, which he didn’t see. He entered the yard of a tan house with a brown rooftop. Its greenish brown grass was unkempt and dying.
Te’Qui was about to make his way up the steps to ring the doorbell when he heard a menacing voice above his head.
“Who are you, Blood?” The voice rang aloud.
Te’Qui looked up to find two gunmen on the rooftop, one sitting and another standing. The one that was speaking to him was wearing a red bandana laid over his head, with a fitted cap on to of it. Another red bandana was over the lower half of his face. He sported a bulletproof vest underneath a windbreaker. Homie was pointing something long, black and dangerous at Te’Qui, with a banana clip in it. The murder in his eyes led Te’Qui to believe that if he said the wrong thing he’d lay him down where he was standing.
“I’m Q-Ball, homie.” Te’Qui answered with his hands up in the air.
“Who you here to see, nigga?” The nigga sitting down on the rooftop asked. He had the exact same weapon that his homeboy standing beside him had, and he was pointing that big mothafucka down at Te’Qui just like he was.
The other nigga on the rooftop was rocking a red beanie with Compton emblazoned on it. A red bandana was around his neck and he had one hanging from the end of his assault rifle’s barrel. He was wearing a bulletproof vest on top of his long sleeve T-shirt. His eyes were also filled with murder, begging for Te’Qui to flex so he could add another body under his belt.
“Big Will.”
“Blood, know you was comin’ through?” he asked. When Te’Qui nodded, he pulled out his cellular and hit up Big Will. They had a quick conversation before he lowered his weapon and turned his eyes back to Te’Qui. “You good, my nigga, gon’ to the back and knock on the door.”
When the blood sitting down on the rooftop lowered his weapon, his comrade did too.
With the go ahead having been given, Te’Qui made his way to the back of the house. Pushing open the double black iron gates, Te’Qui entered the backyard to be greeted by two hulking pit bulls. One of them was white with a pink nose while the other was brown and striped. The beasts went crazy on their chains when they spotted Te’Qui’s ass, growling and barking madly. The very moment the hounds went off, the light bulb above the back porch came on. As soon as it did, Te’Qui looked up at it. Right after, he heard the doors of the black iron door coming undone. Once the door finally opened, he came face to face with Big Will. He was wearing a wife beater and slacks. He was shiny from perspiration. He was clutching a fist full of money in one hand and a small brown leather bag in the other. The very familiar smell of marijuana filled the air and taintilized Te’Qui’s nasal senses.
“’Sup, homie?” Big Will dapped up Te’Qui with the fist he clutched the money in.
“Ain’t shit. What chu got goin’ in there?” Te’Qui nosily peeked over his shoulder to see niggaz shooting craps at the kitchen table. There was niggaz smoking fat ass blunts and drinking dark liquor from out of plastic cups too. In fact, one of them was Drama; he was holding a cup of alcohol and shooting dice with the other, oblivious to the presence of Te’Qui.
“Gambling. Here. This you.” He passed him the brown leather bag.
“So, that’s why you were tight when I holla’d at chu earlier tonight.” Te’Qui said, having put two and two together.
“Hell yeah, man, niggaz been tearing my big black ass up in there. It’s okay though ‘cause I gotta ‘nough paypa to shooting ‘til these niggaz’ arms fall off.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red bandana, wiping the sweat from off his face and neck. Afterwards, he tucked the bandana back inside of his pocket. “You tryna get in on this crap game?”
Before Te’Qui answered, he peeked over Big Will’s shoulder again. This time he found Drama wincing and shaking his head having just crapped out. He threw down his money for his fade and looked back up. His eyes were focused on the new shooter on the dice, and he was about to take a sip of the alcohol in his cup, when he looked at Te’Qui. Drama’s face balled up with anger and he looked at him like What the fuck are you looking at?
“Why don’t chu take a picture? It’ll last longer, mothafucka!” Drama spat at him heatedly. Te’Qui switched hands with the brown leather bag and pulled out his gun. He went to enter the house, but Big Will moved into his path and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Whoa now, cowboy, don’t pay unc no mind. He’s just in his feelings ‘cause them niggaz in there tapping them pockets. You know how it is when you losing money on them tables; niggaz be mad at the world.”
Te’Qui nodded his understanding and tucked his Glizzy back up. “I hear you. But cho people and their attitude, man. You and me are good money, Big, but I ain’t gon’ keep lettin’ shit with that nigga fly. For real, for real, old head better start respectin’ mine, ‘fore he find himself wearing one of them tags on his toes.”
Big Will tilted his head to the side as he scowled at Te’Qui. He didn’t like that the young nigga had threatened to body his uncle, but then again, he understood where he was coming from. They were all gangstaz and demanded respect. Every last one of them was willing to kill and die behind their reputations.
“I feel you. I’ma holla at my peoples and get his mind right.”
“Good.”
“You got that footage for me?”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Te’Qui reached into his back pocket and pulled out the throwaway cellular he’d used to film the fools that had beat down Killa Tay apologizing. He pulled up the footage on the device and passed it to Big Will. Big Will pressed play on the cell phone and watched the footage, a smile forming across his lips. He patted Te’Qui on his shoulder and gave him his props for handling his business. Afterwards, he slipped the cellular into his pocket and dapped him up.
“Good shit. I’ma have my people load up the footage with the quickness. I bet this shit go viral and getta million hits. Mothafuckaz will know notta fuck with Hood Rich records and their affiliates.” Big Will said with confidence.
“Sho’ you right. Limme gon’ and get up outta here though. I’ll get up witchu later.” Te’Qui told him.
The gangstaz dapped up and parted ways.